


Wraiths

by katikat



Category: Who Are You (2013), 후아유 2013
Genre: Coda, F/M, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, K-drama, Korean Drama - Freeform, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 19:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: She and her husband, they both can see ghosts. She in the daylight, he in his dreams, nightmares really. She’s not sure what’s worse. (Unbeta'd)





	Wraiths

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kdrama Who Are You (2013) starring Ok Taecyeon. 
> 
> Yes, I can hear the crickets chirping, I bet no one has any idea what I’m talking about, ha! Oh well. Sometimes, you just need to fic, whether there’s an audience for your story or not. And thus, this ficlet happened. And it makes me so happy!
> 
> Set after the finale. Whump, worry and wraiths.

She and her husband, they both can see ghosts. She in the daylight, he in his dreams,  _nightmares_ really.

She’s not sure what’s worse.

Certainly, Shi-on can never be sure if the person she’s talking to is alive or not which tends to make her look like a crazy person, she can never be sure what’s going to lurk just around the corner or creep out of some shadowy place - but at least she can meet her horrors head on. Gun-woo, though…

There’s no way for him to safeguard his dreams, no way for him to escape when dead people trap him in a nightmare. Sometimes, he doesn’t get proper sleep for days, he wakes up more tired than when he went to bed. Shi-on even took up driving again because she couldn’t allow him behind the wheel when his hands trembled with exhaustion.

She feels for the ghosts, her heart aches for them - but sometimes, sometimes she really  _hates_ them, too.

Like that one time when they almost kill her husband.

* * *

Shi-on wakes up in the middle of the night sensing Gun-woo shifting restlessly in the bed behind her. She fell asleep in his arms, his big embrace making her feel safe, but now he’s lying on his back on his side of their bed and he’s making soft, pained noises, gasping quietly.

Switching on the little lamp on her bedside table, Shi-on props herself up on her elbows and turns around to look at him - and  _freezes_. Because there’s a ghost hovering by the bed. And not just one, a whole crowd of them, pressing closer, their ghostly arms outstretched and touching Gun-woo…

No, they’re not touching him, their hands are reaching  _into_ him, into his chest, their flickering faces, barely discernible, hungry and desperate. Because that’s the kind of ghosts that visit  _him_ , those that cannot can be truly seen anymore, tattered pieces of souls that cannot communicate with the living directly anymore. Those haunt Gun-woo’s dreams.

_Gun-woo…_

Shi-on tears her eyes away from the ghosts crowding their bedroom to look down at her husband. His back is arched and his brows are furrowed, there’s a pained look on his face and his mouth hangs open as he tries to draw in breath. Even in the warm light of the lamp, he’s pale and there’s a thin sheet of sweat glistening on his face.

She reaches out to shake him awake. “Gun-woo? Gun-woo, wake up. Come on,  _wake up_!”

But he doesn’t and Shi-on’s voice grows desperate. “ _Gun-woo_!” she yells now as she climbs to her knees and shakes his arm hard. “Wake up,  _now_!”

And then, not knowing what else to do, she sweeps her hand through the air above his chest, through the ghostly arms grabbing for him, and breaks their hold, screaming, “ _Let him go_!”

They do. They dissipate, leaving her alone with her husband.

Who’s not moving, not  _breathing_.

“Gun-woo…?” Shi-on whispers, touching his naked chest reluctantly. It’s warm. But silent. His heart’s not beating.

She forces down her panic, she forces away memories of another moment like this, when his heart stopped and he almost died on her. She forces herself to move. If she doesn’t do  _something_ , her husband will die. And she won’t have that. She won’t let that happen.

Shi-on calls it in and then starts with CPR, all the time pleading, whispering, “Please, Gun-woo, please don’t leave me.  _Please_ …”

* * *

_Heart attack_. 

That’s what they tell her in the hospital hours later, once Gun-woo’s heart’s beating away steadily again and he’s safely tucked in a hospital bed, the heart monitor by his side beeping reassuringly.

“Your husband had another heart attack.”

Another heart attack.  _Another_. Gun-woo’s not even thirty yet.

Shi-on can still remember the first one, when Gun-woo’s heart gave out after he was stabbed saving her life. She’ll never forget the shrill, unbroken tone of the heart monitor in the ER. She’ll never forget how he crashed again, hours later, when internal bleeding strained his heart so much that–

People in their twenties shouldn’t suffer from heart attacks. Gun-woo should be healthy and safe. And yet.

* * *

When they come again, Shi-on’s sitting by her husband’s bedside, holding his hand, watching his breathing masks fog over again and again. It’s a reassuring sight.

The crowd of tattered apparitions that fills Gun-woo’s hospital room isn’t. Dread fills her when they shift closer to his bed, drawn to him like moths to the flame. They’re reaching out for him again, desperate to be heard again, desperate to be saved, finally put to rest.

Shi-on’s  _also_ desperate. The doctor told her that Gun-woo’s heart might’ve suffered some damage, that he needed absolute rest to recuperate, to get better. Especially since they didn’t know the cause of his heart attack - she could’ve hardly told them that  _ghosts_ caused it, after all. 

Ghosts that might do him harm again now.

“ _Stop_!” Shi-on orders them quietly but very,  _very_ firmly, eyes on the shifting gray mass of wraiths with outstretched arms resembling claws. She’s afraid of them, of these ghosts, so much more than of her own. But she’s even more afraid of losing Gun-woo. “Don’t touch him!”

To her surprise, they comply. They stop, hovering around the bed expectantly. She can’t really discern one wraith from another in that crowd, it’s just eyes and hands, terrible things. But they’re listening. They apparently understand.

She gets up, not letting go of Gun-woo’s hand. “You can’t do this. You’re killing him!” she insists desperately.

They shift and boil, emanating sadness, hopelessness. They don’t  _want_ to cause harm, she knows. And that gives her the necessary courage.

“I can’t talk to you like he can in his dreams,” Shi-on whispers, “but I can  _see_ you. And I can follow you. If you give me something,  _show_ me something tangible that would explain… I can help you. I can set you free. Just…” She looks down at her husband, still unconscious, still unaware of what happened that night, how close he came to dying. “Just leave him be.”

The foggy mass ripples, undulates - and then the ghostly claws beckon. They want her to follow.

“Alright,” she replies, nodding. “Alright.”

Shi-on squeezes Gun-woo’s hand gently and then she bends down to kiss his forehead. His breathing mask is still fogging over, the heart monitor is still beeping in a reassuringly regular rhythm.

“I’ll be back,” she whispers to her husband.

And then she goes.

* * *

There was no serial killer. Nothing like that. Just a greedy, neglectful funeral home and the dead who were never returned back to their loved ones buried in an unmarked grave. She makes sure that they’re found. And the wraiths leave, they just melt away, finally at peace…

Gun-woo’s awake when she returns to the hospital. He’s drained, aching all over and confused but awake. His eyes light up when he sees her - they always do and it never ceases to make Shi-on feel warm all over.

“What happened?” he asks, pulling down his breathing mask.

She kisses him on the lips and tells him, not going into details, though, keeping her dread, her despair to herself. She never again wants to hear his heart stop. That silence where his heartbeat should’ve been was deafening.

Still, Gun-woo senses it all, how she feels. He always does, somehow. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding her hand tight in his, lacing their fingers together.

But Shi-on just shakes her head and pulls her chair closer to his bed. Then she rests her head against his chest, needing to  _hear_ his heart beat. After last night, she needs to hear that reassuring sound with her own ear. And it’s wonderful.

 


End file.
